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"There you are, a smart man." Deirdre waved her hand toward Nik as she stared back at Mikayla, satisfaction filling her gaze. "Now, if you don't show up for that steak, then I'm gonna."
Deirdre bounced from the desk at the sound of the bell tinkling once again. Nik straightened and stepped into the office. Deirdre got as far as the doorway and froze and Mikayla could have sworn she whimpered.
Mikayla knew who it was. Deirdre turned to Mikayla, her expression filled with pity. "Can I have the day off?" she asked as Mikayla's father and brothers stepped into the store.
Dread filled Mikayla. "Can I?"
Nik was standing on the back deck of the rented house, the grill heating, steaks lying on the small grill ledge, as he heard the gate between the two properties squeak as it opened.
He restrained a grin.
He'd left that shop that morning just after giving her father the details of the night before. First, Nik had been required to show ID and subject himself to an in-depth interrogation on why he was there and how long he was staying and even provide references. They were references Nik had no doubt Mr. Martin would call. The man was extremely protective of his only daughter, and the three young men with him had been almost as intense. There was no doubt Mikayla was well cherished by her family.
She had humored them, though there had been desperation in her gaze as she looked at Nik. A plea to rescue her as her family descended upon her. He'd been amused, he had to admit. A part of that amusement had been overshadowed by grief, though. He would have been just as protective of his own daughter. Seeing Ramsey Martin's fear and love for his child had sent a shaft of guilt tearing through Nik.
What would he do had he ever learned a man was intending to use his child as Nik was intending to use Ramsey Martin's child?
He'd kill him.
That was an easy question to ask.
But Mikayla wasn't a child any longer. She was a grown woman, one with an innocent appeal that drove him insane.
He couldn't equate Mikayla with a child, his or any others. He was man enough to see the woman in her, and to be aroused by her.
"I was wondering how long it would take you to break free." He didn't turn as he sensed her moving toward the deck.
46
"I completely blame you for the entire debacle that my day has been." The accusation in her voice had a grin tugging at his lips. There was no true heat, more exasperation and irritation than anything.
"That's why I have your beer extra cold." He turned to her, and he swore his cock surged harder, faster, than it had the night before.
Son of a bitch. Look at her. That fall of soft wheat blond hair over one side of her face as those amethyst eyes watched him with narrowed intent. That look sliced right through him. Like fire snaking through his body. He felt sweat begin to dot his shoulders, felt his balls tighten painfully. Hell, he wanted to taste her so damned bad he could barely stand it. The need for it was a hunger raging through him with a force that almost left him shaking. He'd never wanted anything like he wanted this woman right now.
"How do you like your steak?" He had to turn from her. If he didn't turn away from her, then he was going to lift her up on the long wooden table, stroke that flimsy dress up her thighs, and peel it from her plump breasts.
"Medium whatever," she answered as she stepped up to the deck. "I hope you have salad and a potato to go with that. You owe me after the hell I went through today. Do you know they made me go to the hospital? Do you know what hospitals are like? I hate those damned places."
He turned back, just for a second, he told himself. He was just going to look at her for another second.
She stood at the top of the steps, her hip cocked, one hand resting against it as her hair fell around her shoulders like a sunlit cape.
She was so damned short. And so fucking petite he was almost scared to touch her. Hell, she'd be the death of him. He was going to expire from sexual hunger before the night was over.
"Salad and potato are waiting inside," he promised her. He'd done his homework. He knew how she liked her steak before he'd even asked her. He knew she preferred Caesar salad and baked potatoes. She liked ranch dressing on her salad, butter and ranch on her potato. She preferred rolls with honey and liked lemon with her sweet tea.
She wore dresses, rarely wore jeans, and she liked silk and French lace beneath her clothing.
He was dying to get under her dress.
"Where's that beer?" The irritation in her voice only made him harder. Made him feel challenged.
"Here you go, pretty girl." Pulling open the door to the minirefrigerator beneath the grill, he opened the beer, then turned and handed it to her. Her fingers glanced his as she took it and he swore his body tightened further. His cock was going to explode at this rate.
Nik swore he could smell the sweet, soft aroma of arousal reaching out to him, or perhaps it was just the innocent curiosity in her gaze and his own imagination.
"God, they made me crazy." She plopped down on the seat at the picnic table, crossed one slender leg over her knee. Her strappy soft blue sandals were an attractive contrast to the white and pale yellow sundress that barely met her knees. The fluttery dress was pretty as hell, feminine and soft, tempting. It made a man 47
